


My son is weak

by CamilleDuDemon



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Featuring the obnoxious ghost of Hux Sr., Hux's head is a huuuge mess, Hux-centric, Insomnia induced delirium, Kylux implied, M/M, Mental Breakdown, post-TFA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 16:35:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6527725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CamilleDuDemon/pseuds/CamilleDuDemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux tries to deal with the destruction of the Starkiller and Kylo Ren's near death. After four days with the minimum sleep, the General has a bad breakdown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My son is weak

General Hux begun struggling with insomnia at the tender age of eight.

Since then, he had grown accustomed to barely sleep three hours per night. After the Starkiller catastrophe, his three hours dangerously fell to zero.

Four days of complete sleep deprivation (a couple of naps per day that never lasted more than fifteen minutes weren't clearly enough) and there he was, hardly standing on his weakened legs, pacing back and forth on the Finalizer's main deck and hiding his shaking hands from prying eyes by burying them into the deep pockets of his greatcoat.

Only a few officers had dared to point out his miserable state in the previous days, but they soon stopped because of their general's threats and gazes that could kill.

Hux inhaled a mouthful of stale air, dizziness making him feel like he was trapped in a damned bubble and his brain wrapped in a wet, wool blanket.

 

_My dear Brendol, my firstborn...defeated and put in a corner where he can properly lick his wounds. Pathetic. My son is pathetic._

 

The general flinched, when the despised voice of his dead father echoed through his hears as if he was spitting his toxic remarks from above his shoulder.

He hasn't heard that voice in a very long time, still it managed to get a sheen of cold sweat on his upper lip.

 

_Shut up, old man. At least I'm not rotting 30 feet underground. My body is intact: yours is nothing more than a pile of decomposed flesh, only good to fatten worms up._

 

The ghost of his father, which Hux supposed to be only the voice of his angry conscience, croaked a laugh. Brendol Hux Senior didn't love to indulge his pleasures, but occasionally he allowed himself two fingers of good brandy and a fine cigar coming from the deepest regions of the old Outer Rim. Smoke had compromised forever his vocal cords, so his voice sounded husky and cutting like a blunt blade that could still rip up and maul. Or, at least, that was what the younger Hux thought.

 

_Come on, my son, admit your guilt and get over it. Be a man, for once, and make your father proud. I can feel disdain gnawing your guts and, frankly, I'm really delighted about it._

 

Hux clenched a fist in his pocket. The shadow of his loathed father grinned with satisfaction.

 

_YOU'RE NOT REAL. You have no power on my mind._

 

_Are you sure...son? Look at yourself. Haunting these corridors like a ghost, with the sole purpose of bringing Kylo Ren to the Supreme Leader all in one piece and breathing. Good job, indeed. He was on the verge of death, two days ago, because you allowed him to give vent to his frustrations and he nearly bled to his death._

 

A couple of tired lieutenants looked up to him when Hux started rubbing his temples manically, but they immediately turned their heads, mindful of the unfortunate fate that nosey people put themselves in aboard the Finalizer.

“Go away”, Hux accidentally muttered.

His sore legs were almost giving up on him.

Another croaking laugh stung in a corner of his head and his eyes watered with pain.

 

_Don't ever talk about Ren. Don't you dare._

 

Hux Senior's ghost sneered.

 

_You care about him, isn't it? You have let him in. My poor son, will you ever learn? LOVE ANNIHILATES DISCIPLINE. WITH NO DISCIPLINE, YOU BECOME NOTHING._

 

Hux squirmed at the teasing, his ears ringing painfully. He gave up, collapsing on his knees in front of his subjects, the back of his coat soaked with cooling sweat.

 

_MY SON IS WEAK!_

 

Soon, a large group of officers was surrounding him, despite his feeble barks and threats (“Don't touch me, don't even dare, or I'll execute everyone of you useless things by myself”), whispering of mental breakdowns and carrying him to the medical ward.

 

_MY SON IS A FAILURE!_

 

His skull was burning as if someone had set fire to his head, white light were flashing into his dark circled eyes and even his teeth hurt.

For the first time in his life, Hux was really fearing for his life.

Was he dying, so? Squirming and crying, suffering unbearable pains, only to pay the price of his failure?

Hux had never feared death: now he was only begging for the torture to end as soon as possible, to get free from the grip of frozen sweat and hurt.

And, possibly, not to pay his failure with his life.

Because, no matter how much he had desired to be dead in a distant past when the tormenting presence of his father was too much for him to take, he wasn't ready at all.

 

_Am I dying? REN I NEED YOU GOD IT BURNS...something is WROOOOONG wrong wrong with my head. IT HURTS LIKE HELL it burnsburnsburns I'M ON FIRE, YES I MUST BE, IT BURNS. I almost let you die, can't you understand?!? I'M A FAILURE. Gods, it's...hell...my head...I DON'T WANT TO LOSE YOU, PLEASE, PLEASE DON'T...LETMEDIEYET!_

 

A medical droid injected something in his veins with a syringe that Hux thought being as big as his forearm. He noticed that the needle punctured his translucent skin with no effort at all.

Some minutes after, he was drifted into a forced unconsciousness where he had no dream at all.

In a remote corner of head, however, a soothing voice whispered comforting words all the time.

 

It was Ren's.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
